A Broken Heart
by lyokomegas4
Summary: Ziltrix has always lived a meaningless, slothful existence. For years, he has comfortably lived in obscurity and anonymity, traveling from place to place. On one stroll in a slum of Metroville, he nonchalantly rescues a young boy from certain death. This sets off a chain of events that will greatly impact the future. And through it all, Ziltrix has one question. What is my purpose?


The cold, evening dusk enveloped the streets of Metroville. Rain and hail barreled down upon the deserted pavement, leaving a sopping, wet mess. The storm that raged above had successfully disrupted the electrical grid in scattered areas of the city. This section, without electricity, looked especially grim. Trash littered the sidewalk, making the citizens' lack of care evident. This part of Metroville was notorious for its gang-related activity, and crime was abundant. Due to its location and notoriety, the police made few efforts to actually improve the situation.

In this slum, a lone figure, whom looked to be no older than 30, casually strolled down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. His wardrobe was quite unique. A long, black trench coat was enveloped over a grey, silk turtleneck sweater. His jeans appeared to be some sort of dress slacks, with blue Italian loafers. He wore a grey newsboy cap atop his head, with a green scarf that enveloped his neck, dropping down to his waist at the ends. The rain pounded against his coat, as the man merely continued his slow pace. He reached a corner, when a police cruiser came soaring past, its sirens wailing. The man chuckled at the thought of the police actually helping. This section of the city had fallen down on the idea of hope for years now.

The man crossed the road, calmly resuming his pace. He made his way to the local cafe. It was a shoddy-looking place, but it did hold a comfortable air about itself. It was the only restaurant for miles around that had a backup generator for situations like this. The man almost never went out anywhere for food, as his own home was in extreme disrepair. This time, however, he wanted to treat himself. He stepped up to the counter-top, and peered around himself subtly. He was the tallest man in the room. He stood at an impressive 7' even. The waitress seemed slightly anxious to have to look up at a customer. He softly spoke, "I humbly request a cream-filled croissant, madam." These words were clearly not expected by the waitress, who responded with, "Sure thing, honey." If anything, she seemed clearly creeped out by the man's mannerisms. The tall man took a seat at the furthest end of the restaurant, sitting in a booth by himself. Several minutes later, the woman came to him with the confection, and he smiled brightly. "Your service is most appreciated madam. I humbly give you my gratitude for such an excellent confection." The woman, still a bit creeped out, simply smiled and went back to her work. The man did not respond to this, and merely nibbled upon the delicious pastry. He gazed outside, the rain pounding against the window. The wind had proceeded to increase in intensity, and began to blow around debris. The man had thought about sitting inside the cafe for a while, when he noticed something across the road.

A brief flash of motion had caught his eye. At first, he did not pay it any attention. However, he suddenly heard a faint scream. His interest piqued, he finished his small pastry and exited the building. Around the corner to his left, he could hear a young voice crying out. The man, in no particular hurry, casually walked to the corner. The screams were growing in intensity. The man rounded the corner, but nobody was there. Casually, he inched towards the source of the noise. The voice was young, desperate. The young voice spoke, "Help! Mother! I'm not allowed to talk to strangers! I'm sorry mister, I don't know what you're talking about!" As the man inched closer, he heard another voice, obviously older. A male. "Come on kid, only someone your age can help me with my problem… A guy like me has...needs. Needs that only little boys like you can help me with." The man reached the edge of another corner, right beside the entrance of an alleyway. He could tell that whatever was going on in the alleyway was not pleasant. The younger male's voice began screaming erratically, quickly becoming muffled. Sighing, the well-dressed man began to casually stroll away from the corner, but there was something about the boy's sobs that made him stop in his tracks. It was the sheer _helpless misery_ that emanated from the boy's cries. Regressing to where he was, the man turned the corner.

In front of him, a little boy was pinned against the alley wall by an older man. The older man was repeatedly trying to undo his own belt buckle, restraining the boy with the other hand. The man in the trench coat slowly walked forward, the violator obviously not paying him any attention. The boy's eyes were closed, and he was silently sobbing, not putting up any more resistance. Eventually, the well-dressed man caught the offender's attention, and the older man sneered. The offender had not successfully undone his jeans, and he spoke, "Take a picture, it will last longer." The well-dressed man merely smirked, not uttering a word. The offender said, "Get lost. I saw him first. I don't share my catches." The well-dressed man silently walked forward, and the little boy said, "Mister! Please help me!" The violator spoke, "Shut up, my sweet little pie. You'll get your reward for being so...beautiful." The violator roughly shoved the boy to the ground, and drew a knife on the well-dressed man.

"Get lost. I will gut your intestines if you don't." The well-dressed man kept walking forward, not intimidated. The violator ran forward, and slashed the well-dressed man across the throat. The well-dressed man did not even flinch. "What...What the fuck?" The gang-banger was in sheer shock, not believing what he just saw. The well-dressed man simply stood there, hands in his pockets. Not a single drop of blood was evident. The gang-banger looked at his knife, the blade broken. The well-dressed man continued to walk forward until he was directly face to face with the violator. The well dressed man still held that wicked smirk. The violator merely stared with an angry grimace.

Out of nowhere, a spike was driven through the violator's shoulder. The well-dressed man had not even moved. A loud scream emanated from the gang-banger, whom clutched his shoulder in pain. The spike disappeared, and the violator's arm hung limply from his side, blood trickling down steadily. It had been rendered useless, the spike slicing through the nerves and tendons with no effort. The gang-banger collapsed from the pain. The well-dressed man simply looked down at the violator, smirking with satisfaction. The gang-banger said, "I don't know what the fuck that was, but you will regret that." He pulled out a pistol, firing directly at the well-dressed man's head. The round merely ricocheted harmlessly off the man's face. The gang-banger looked absolutely terrified. "Okay! I'll leave him alone! Just don't kill me!" The well-dressed man drank in the gang-banger's helpless form, and smiled wickedly.

The well-dressed man extended his left hand from his pocket, and extended it to the whimpering gang-banger, as if to help him up. The gang-banger reached for it, only for the well-dressed man's fingers to extend, puncturing his stomach, before quickly retracting. 5 medium-sized holes were left gaping in the man's stomach cavity. The gang-banger began to gasp for breath, the blood pooling in the wet pavement under his body. The well-dressed man then, in a horrific display, extended his fingers, enveloping the gang-banger entirely, proceeding to drag the helpless victim towards himself. The gang-banger was slowly, agonizingly absorbed into the well-dressed man's body, being consumed entirely. In moments, the only trace he was ever there was a thick pool of blood on the ground from his stomach wounds.

The well-dressed man dusted himself off, placed his hands back in his pockets, and abruptly turned, striding towards the exit of the alley. No blood stains were evident on his clothes. Behind him, he heard the small boy yell, "Wait!" The well-dressed man merely kept walking, until he felt a hand tugging at the back of his coat. The well-dressed man looked down, and saw the boy. The boy was looking up at him, fear and anxiety present in his eyes. The boy had deep blue irises, tears obviously recent. He looked absolutely helpless. The well-dressed man said nothing. The boy spoke, "Thanks for saving me." The well-dressed man said nothing. The boy continued, "I got lost on the way home… Usually I don't have problems getting home but that man chased me and I lost my sense of direction." Due to the rain, the boy's face appeared to be in absolute tears. The evening darkness was increasing in volume. The well-dressed man merely looked down at the boy. The boy spoke, in absolute fear, "What happened to him? The other man?" The well-dressed man did not respond. He gently nudged the boy off, and continued walking. The boy called from behind him, "Can you walk me home? Please?" The well-dressed man turned, and nodded subtly. Immediately, the boy's blue irises brightened a bit, and said with a smile, "Thank you mister."

The journey home with the boy had taken two hours, due to the child constantly losing his sense of direction in the growing darkness. By the time they had reached his apartment complex, it was well past ten at night. The section his apartment was in wasn't quite as downtrodden as where they had met. There were isolated pedestrians on the streets, people with flashlights trying to find their way. If not for the moon, the streets would have been embraced with total darkness. The boy looked at the well-dressed man. "Mother is going to kill me." The boy knocked on the door and after a few moments, a woman appeared by the door. She was thin, but had an athletic physique. Her hair was black as the purest coal, and her brown eyes appeared absolutely timid. In an instant, she scooped up the boy, softly speaking, "Buddy! Baby boy! You're home!" The boy was showered in motherly affection, and she appeared to be in tears. "Where have you been? I called the police and everything! Young man, you better not lie to me either." Her voice was soft, pleasant, carrying a tender tone. The boy visibly shrunk under her gaze, and said, "I was walking home and this mean man began chasing me. He was saying that only I could help him with his…"needs."" At these words, the mother began softly crying, and said, "Are you alright? Did he do anything to you?" The woman looked at the well-dressed man, and said, "Who are you? What are you doing with my son at this hour?" The boy spoke, "He saved my life, mother." The woman looked at the man skeptically, "Is he bribing you to say that, Buddy?" "No mother! I swear!" The well-dressed man said nothing, and proceeded to turn slowly away from the door, walking down the stairs. The man heard the boy, Buddy, calling from behind him. "Mister! Come back!" He heard the woman softly speak, "Buddy! Get back here!" The giant of a man turned, looking down at Buddy. The child's eyes were filled with curiosity. The mother stopped behind her child, looking up at the well-dressed man. She clearly did not expect someone so tall. Buddy said, "Let him stay the night mother! He saved my life! He's really cool!" The woman looked up at the well-dressed man, and said, quite fearfully, "What's your...name?" Her voice was soft, gentle, like a whisper in the wind. The well-dressed man merely looked at her, silently, before speaking, the rain beating against his coat. "Madam, you may address me as Ziltrix."


End file.
